The above (original) black and white portrait of me, Robyn, was taken in either 1975 or 1976 by my uncle when I was somewhere around three years old. My mother will try to tell you the hideous haircut that I'm sporting was "the style at the time". She will call it "a shag". Don't let her fool you. It was a mullet, mom. Deal with it. You did that to me. Fortunately I believe I was quite possibly cute enough at the time to overcome it.

mark your calendars - this year's event runs 'til 10.08.05
now happily taking your photo submissions and donations

I swear one of these days we'll get back to your regularly scheduled programming around here, and it won't be all 'Thon all the time. It really is an all-consuming undertaking. Not that I'm complaining — I'm giddy as a little school girl that we're nearing the $5K mark in just our fourth day of official business (five, if you count the day-early preview for the Wired News feature). We've also received a nod from the Chicago Tribune. Our press coordinator SJ is making everyone say her name this year!

As for life outside of fundraiser-land... I'm quickly learning what life is going to be like as the only girl in a household of three other boys. Our oldest now giggles when daddy farts. And when he farts. And when little brother burps...

But I could barely control my own giggles tonight when I was feeding the little one his bottle, and daddy went to change big brother. Suddenly I hear this song drifting out into the living room — only the lyrics had been changed to, "Something died in your butt tonight. It must have been sooooomething you aaaaate. Something died in your butt tonight." I guess that will finally replace this SNL skit in my brain.

And...I'm spent. That's all I've got, folks. Tip your waitress. The 7 o'clock show is same as the 11.